


the definition of afterwards

by gustin_puckerman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Break Up, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gustin_puckerman/pseuds/gustin_puckerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barton didn't stare back. Almost in a bored tone, he asked: "So... you and Cap."</p><p>She returned her gaze back to the ceiling, snorting.</p><p>Barton didn't retreat his question, "What happened?"</p><p>Established Steve/Maria (in the beginning). Maria dealt with her break-up and tried to pick up the messy pieces. No definite timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the definition of afterwards

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an experiment to see how Maria would have reacted, despite everybody's expectation, when Steve ended their relationship -- because let's face it, I know we all have this mindset that (if given their relationship were to end) they'd either fall apart really, extremely painfully or Maria ended things because of emotional conflicts. So, I spiced it up a lil' bit. Basically the whole prompt: what happened to Maria when it's _Steve_ who dumped her, and right when she was beginning to really like him. Which, horrifyingly-but-not, turned into this kind of Clint/Maria/Bucky (with a splash of Natasha because _of course_ ) bonding thing over her awkward break-up and idk.
> 
> This isn't beta'd, but hopefully, my next (preferably Maria/Steve's) piece would be. I'm working on it. Therefore, all mistakes are, admittedly, mine.
> 
> No definite timeline, so pretty much AU.

There were mist curling up at the corner of her mouth when she breathed, and she thought somebody might have had just punched her square on her ribs, because despite their expectation, she was the one who got dumped.

When Steve called the decision, Maria didn't break.

She never break. She didn't run. She didn't even hesitate. Oh, but she flinched, because this was Steve, and it was an unexceptionally cold night, and out all the things she'd expected him to say, it was absolutely not _that_. "I don't think I can do this anymore," he had said, and Maria heard it echoed, dully, repeatedly, from the inside of her head, bouncing again-and-again-and-again in her skull that she's pretty sure she'll never bleed those words out from her system for the rest of her life.

She blinked, and took a deep breath.

"Maria―"

"No, please." That was her first string of words after the better part of her world tumbled down, and for a second, Maria couldn't move, couldn't think. Couldn't _breathe_. So, she stared at the Captain, hoping somehow this was all a stupid prank (―and she didn't mean _just_ the break-up, she meant the whole thing: their relationship, their encounters, their hushed-conversations when everything was just a little too hard to bear; everything, just, simply, the whole fucking―) but it never was. The fact of the matter was, Maria Hill was in a relationship with Steve Rogers, Captain- _freaking_ -America, and she liked it. A _lot_.

She liked him, period.

They weren't at the point where it's too serious (―the three expensive words were never spoken, but Maria held him more times than she'd willing to admit, and allowed him to cradle her when it's too quiet for them, and there's _love_  even if no one could see it, could trace it, even when _she_ refused to believe it and now it's all―), but dammit, does it hurt. It hurts her more than she'd anticipated, _killed_ her more than it should have.

He came to her then, his steps swift and steady, and her vision was zeroed in towards his movements because _what was he doing_ until she realised there's a single tear running down her cheek. She stopped him, holding up a hand, and took a firm step back. _No_. She wanted to glare, but there's just rage in her chest, frustration on her shoulders and rejection all over her muscles, and she swore to God, if he took just _one_ step closer, she's not going to make through the night alive. Not mentally.

"It's over. Okay." She processed it and took another sharp intake of breath, dragging her gaze towards anything _but_ him, and nodded her head. "I understand."

"Maria," he tried again, but she cut him off.

"I understand," she repeated, because though this hurt (pained her just as much as the scars daddy left her), she knew this was coming. Knew _why_ this was coming. She tried offering him a smile, if only to ease his raging thoughts. "You should celebrate, Rogers. You've earned your win today."

(She's referring to his successful mission today, of course. She checks on that kind of stuff. That's what she does.)

He didn't answer her, she didn't want him to.

"Goodnight, Captain." She didn't turn when he called, jumped on her motorbike and drove into the night. She knew they argued a lot, more so lately, but she was really hoping to just curl in his bed tonight and listened to him breathe, despite their clashing opinions, their different thoughts; because when everything's been said and done, it won't change, how she felt about him, _for_ him; that she liked him, more than she'd expected, anyone could predict. Every minute, every second, every day.

(It's kind of pathetic, when you think about it.)

She allowed another tear to roll down her cheek, because _damn_ , she thought: she'd just really be hoping to lie on his bed that night.

(His bed was always warmer, larger. And well, it didn't hurt that it smelled an awful lot like him.)

 

 

 

Professionalism might have been Maria's middle name, but she never had one so she won't start. Fitting into her Deputy Director role had never caused her any problem, so job wasn't affected. Rogers and a large group who was very aware of their relationship were a little awkward at first, but Maria found them a pace, and sooner or later, it's as though nothing ever happened.

She gave him a box filled with his stuff before he asked, and slowly, watched him walked away.

When he closed that door, Maria's shoulders sagged and she felt the heavy weight swung across her shoulders with each further step he took, knowing that it's real, and it's been done. She'd lost him.

(―and worst of all, she'd allowed him to be in the position where he could have, with just enough force, break her. He didn't _break_ her, of course. But there's a crack, and one that even the Ice Queen Hill couldn't fix so easily, quickly.)

 

 

 

Aunt Marie called and asked her about, "the nice young man she's seeing", and Maria, for the first time in a long time, hadn't known how to break the news.

But she told her the truth anyway.

Aunt Marie said, "Oh dear. He sounds so nice."

"He is," Maria swallowed, because she could not think of the times she thought Steve was correct, was good, because there had only been two men Maria was willing to discuss with Aunt Marie, and one of them were supposedly dead. ( _Phil_.) To the older woman, anyway. "He's the nicest person you'll ever meet, I think."

"Oh, Maria."

"It's okay," she smoothly said, but even she knew that it won't be good enough. Aunt Marie may have not raised her till she was half-way through her teenage years, but that woman knew Maria like the back of her hand, just as much as she'd known her own son; and Maria _knew_ for a fact that however convincing she thought she'd sounded like, Aunt Maria wasn't one to be easily fooled. "I'm okay."

There's a pause, and she tried again: "I will be."

Aunt Marie didn't say anything, but it's like Maria was transported back to when she's just a stupid fifteen year old kid, sitting there in the kitchen with Aunt Marie holding her hand when they told him dad was dead, for _real_ this time, shot right between the eyes, and Maria didn't know whether she's relieved or angry. She shook her head mentally at the memory and tried to grasp some air; slowly, she managed: "He doesn't know it's killing me."

(―Maria didn't cry; but she took a few days off and visited the old woman. Aunt Marie made her favourite soup, and she reunited again with Mat, Aunt Marie's only son, and they talked about the old days and Mat's new life, married now with a son, and she liked it when he called her 'grimly', because he's the only one who called her that, and it made her feel a lot better and then Mat said, "You should never deserve to be where you are, Grims. He's an idiot."

There's anger in his eyes, subtle flashes of it, but it's there, and Mat had never been that person to be pissed off easily, or angered by simply. He'd always been the guy with jokes and funny remarks in his spare pocket, the one who's much less serious in their duo, the one who went around greeting strangers and blurting out whatever incoherent comments which fled through his mind, no matter how ridiculous it was; so when he said, "He should have never made you sad, Maria. Not even a fucking second." Maria was scared. A little. 

Because through his blind hatred, Maria honestly thought that Mat would have really liked Steve. Probably just as much as she did.)

 

 

 

Maria's world fell apart at two o'clock in the morning, six weeks after their break-up.

There's a fresh gun shot wound through her stomach that had been patched up and cleaned, and she thought she was seeing Rogers standing by her bed side, looking down on her, tired and worn, still in his uniform, and there's dirt across his nose. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he ended just tilting up a small smile for her, like he always did whenever he's just glad to see her, but too wired down to actually say it aloud, before she jokingly asked him what was he waiting for ―  _lie down already, will you. I'm not getting any younger_.

He usually laughed, shed off his uniform and slipped under the covers.

But this time, he just stood there, until his smile turned into a deep frown, one heavy with disappointment and frustration and stress and he'd looked at her in disgust, just like dad used to, everybody used to. He started to back away, yelling stuff that she couldn't translate quick enough and then Barton was by her side and Maria was reminded again that she'd just returned home from a mission (which went terrifically wrong) in Istanbul with Hawkeye, and she'd also taken a bullet for him.

" _Fuck_ ," she said, pressing her fingers against her forehead. "The drug's too much."

She's seeing more things than she ought to.

Barton squeezed her arm as he helped her lie back down against the mattress, agreeing, "I know. You were screaming for Cap."

She tried to give him a pointed look, but she's still very-much drowsy and there might have been stars dancing across Barton's face, and that was not possible. "Something you wanna talk about?"

"Hell no." She said, and he sighed in relief.

She blinked at the ceiling. 

Barton stayed quiet, flipped through a magazine. She wanted to ask him what was he doing here ― it was just a bullet; it was practically in her job description, to cover for her men, whoever she could; so taking one for the team, or a man, wasn't something either was unfamiliar with ― but her head's clogged up with a headache she couldn't wave away, so she shut her mouth and stared at him.

Barton didn't stare back. Almost in a bored tone, he asked: "So... you and Cap."

She returned her gaze back to the ceiling, snorting.

Barton didn't retreat his question, "What happened?"

"It didn't work out."

"S'gonna be a problem?"

Maria smirked, well, as much as a smirk she could perform anyway, tasting the metal at the edge of her tongue. "Only when the dark gets too dark."

Barton gave her a silent nod, and didn't breathe a word.

 

 

 

Steve finally went out with Sharon Carter, and Tony mentioned how good of a couple they were. 

Maria didn't bat an eye.

He asked her for her opinion, because _of course he would_ , and Barton didn't go tense from besides the billionaire, but he did glance over, and he did raised an eyebrow. Hill momentarily wondered what happened to Romanoff, but shrugged it off. She turned to Tony, levelled her gaze and answered: "As long as they're doing their jobs, I don't believe their relationship will cause any problem."

"Of course it won't." Tony squinted his eyes, hiding his amusement.

Barton laughed.

(―he bought her drinks after, and Maria Hill decided that she'll spar with the Winter Soldier the next day.)

 

 

 

"What happened?" Barnes asked, and Maria wasn't oblivious to what he truly meant.

Though it ended too soon for Barnes to have an actual idea of what happened (since he was in his early recovery when Steve called it quits), Maria knew Barnes wasn't stupid enough to dismiss it entirely. Maria swung her first punch, and the Winter Soldier challenged her to do it harder.

She did, and suddenly a supposedly-sparring session turned into a training session as the Winter Soldier barked out orders and demanded satisfaction.

She was bleeding when she felt her arms might gave out under her, tipping her head back while she gasped in a breaths of oxygen, seeing Steve in Barnes more than she'd like, and flexed her wrist. "You wanna know what happened?" She asked, mad now. _Furious_. She swung another punch, then another, then another; felt her chest expanded as Barnes grunted with every force, nodding his head in approval in between her moves; and Maria admitted, finally, out loud, "I fucked up."

 

 

 

She went to a lot of missions whenever she possibly could, keeping herself busy and finding herself having more drinks with Barton. Maria also began to pledge for the Winter Soldier, requesting him on several of her missions, until they were at a point where Bucky Barnes himself found his place in their little group of misfits, hearing Barton's endless tales about whatever as they pretended they're normal civilians enjoying friends' companies, complaining about their respective days.

Natasha eventually joined, only because she silently thought Maria was stealing her boys away, and enjoyed tea with them once in a while.

It's good, for the most part.

They didn't talk much about Steve, or at all. They didn't talk about the fact Sharon and him were getting more serious than ever (―Tony mentioned something about a ring and a box―), but they knew _enough_. And Maria was happy with their little arrangement, how they ended up there.

Still, when Romanoff asked if she missed him, Maria barked out laughing and didn't lie―

"I'd be a fucking idiot if I don't."

 

 

 

There wasn't much closure really, in the end, and half-way through everything, she supposed she hadn't expected one either. Rogers tried to apologise somehow, somewhere, but she was glad when Barton and Barnes were quick enough to pull her out of that situation with a mission; guns ready, and coordinates set.

For now, Maria Hill will keep on doing her job.

(―looking into a pair of blue eyes will never be the same mindless act again.)

 

 

 

It's what she does.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Barton/Hill/Barnes trio entertains me. Platonically, of course.
> 
> Loosely inspired by "Six Degrees of Separation" by The Scripts.


End file.
